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ing this presumption, Pastoral poetry is out of datelittle read, and, at present, not at all written. Many English poets from Chaucer to Shenstone have written Pastorals. Ambrose Phillips, a contemporary of Pope, wrote pastorals better than he wrote any thing else. As a specimen of this species of poetry, an extract from Phillips' Pastorals is subjoined. Two shepherds meet annually to bewail the loss of one of their young compeers; one of them, Angelot, here rehearses the praises of the dead Albino :

"Thus yearly circling, by-past times return;
And yearly, thus, Albino's death we mourn.
Sent into life, alas! how short thy stay:
How sweet the rose! how speedy to decay!
Can we forget, Albino dear, thy knell,
Sad-sounding wide from every village bell;
Can we forget how sorely Albion moan'd,
That hills, and dales, and rocks, in echo groan'd,
Presaging future woe, when for our crimes,
We lost Albino, pledge of peaceful times,
Fair boast of this fair island, darling joy
Of nobles high, and every shepherd boy?

No joyous pipe was heard, no flocks were seen,
Nor shepherd found upon the grassy green,
No cattle graz'd the field, nor drank the flood,
No birds were heard to warble through the wood.
In yonder gloomy grove outstretch'd he lay
His lovely limbs upon the dampy clay;
On his cold cheek the rosy hue decay'd,
And o'er his lips the deadly blue display'd:
Beating around him lie his plaintive sheep,
And mourning shepherds come, in crowds, to weep.
Young Buckhurst comes: and, is there no redress?
As if the grave regarded our distress!
The tender virgins come, to tears yet new,
And give, aloud, the lamentations due.
The pious mother comes, with grief opprest:
Ye trees and conscious fountains, can attest
With what sad accents and what piercing cries,

She fill'd the grove, and importun'd the skies,
And every star upbraided with his death,

When, in her widow'd arms, devoid of breath,
She clasp'd her son: nor did the nymph, for this,
Place in her darling's welfare all her bliss,
Him teaching, young, the harmless crook to wield
And rule the peaceful empire of the field.

As milk-white swans on streams of silver show,
And silvery streams to grace the meadows flow,
As corn the vales, and trees the hills adorn,
So thou, to thine, an ornament was born.
Since thou, delicious youth, didst quit the plains,
Th' ungrateful ground we till with fruitless pains,
In labour'd furrows, sow the choice of wheat,
And, over empty sheaves, in harvest sweat;
A thin increase our fleecy cattle yield;
And thorns, and thistles, overspread the field.
How all our hope is fled like morning-dew!
And scarce did we thy dawn of manhood view.
Who now shall teach the pointed spear to throw,
To whirl the sling, and bend the stubborn bow,
To toss the quoit with steady aim, and far,
With sinewy force, to pitch the massy bar :
Nor dost thou live to less thy mother's days,
To share her triumphs and to feel her praise,
In foreign realms to purchase early fame,
And add new glories to the British name.
O, peaceful may thy gentle spirit rest;
The flowery turf lie light upon thy breast;
Nor shrieking owl, nor bat, thy tomb fly round,
Nor midnight goblins revel o'er the ground!"

Poetry is descriptive when it exhibits the appearances of nature, as in Mr. Bryant's Green River-humorous when it would excite laughter, as in Byrom's Three Black Crows-pathetic when it induces the feelings of sadness and pity.-Gray's Elegy is pathetic. When humorous poetry excites contempt for any object by assuming dignity of style in representing it, we call it burlesque.,

It may be remarked that poetry does not consist merely

of measured words, but of poetic ideas. Common business, whatever relates to gaining money, and to supply. ing the mere wants of the body, is not poetical. Whatever employs the imagination without regard to bodily wants-God and his works, the mind and its pleasures, great actions of good men, the appearance of the heavens and the beauty of the earth, and the hopes and probable enjoyments of another life, are poetical subjects. There is a proper manner or style of writing upon these subjects, more dignified and more refined than that which we use in ordinary writing: this is the poetie style, and it admits of ornaments which are explained by Rhetoric. Grammar informs us how to speak and write with propriety, Rhetorick instructs us to do both with elegance.

Rules do not convey exact ideas of a just and beautiful style of writing: they are useful, but not sufficient. Good examples set before a writer, and good sense and good taste on his part, are necessary to make him write well; and the careful and intelligent reading of the best books in his own language, is the best help which any young person can find to exalt and multiply his own ideas, or to create the power of expressing them with effect upon others.

The genius of a man determines whether he shall be a fine poet, an original artist, or an eloquent orator; but genius does not determine whether whatever he does shall be done well or ill-his education, his habits, and his own will, determine that. Industry and application of mind, are the means of improving all the faculties. Taste consists in the knowledge of what is beautiful and proper, and in the love of it. If a young person be careless how he speaks and writes, if his desire of excellence be no higher than to spell well, and to be amused by books, he has no chance of any high enjoyments derived from literature. A gentleman really accomplished, capable of sustaining any eminence with honour, must know how to converse and to write well, and to form a

correct judgment of the abilities of others in these respects.

A person accustomed to books, and desirous of expressing his thoughts well in writing or discourse, must know what is proper and elegant in the style of writing which he attempts, and also the style of conversation suited to his associates. Perhaps there is no mortification more frequently felt than that of an embarrassed speech-a want of self-satisfying power to give ready utterance to one's thoughts. This may be obviated by careful and early study, and by a habit of committing our ideas to writing. We ought to know what terms are suitable to ordinary discourse. A person who reads much becomes pedantic or bombastical, if he does not learn that the subjects and language of his books are somewhat distinct from the topics which spring up in common conversation -but his conversation will be corrupted if he does not bear in mind the corrections which vulgar speech may take from an intimacy with good authors; and his written compositions will not attain their suitable elegance unless he knows what is proper.

What is proper, is the style which the best writers have agreed to consider proper. The models of what is proper must be known-we must read poetry and prose to know them. We are not obliged exactly to imitate any style of writing-if we understand and love what we read, our minds will be conformed to the spirit of our reading; and if we have talents we may improve upon the manner of others. No artist could have formed the statue of a god who had never seen a man, but having seen and studied the human figure, images far surpassing the beauty of any individual man have been formed. Books are in every house; instruction lifts up her voice every where-we have nothing to do but to read, to listen, to think of these things, and to elevate ourselves above "the vulgar flight of low desire," to be all that we ought to be.

Poetry is so happily adapted to our faculties that its construction catches the ear instantly, it fastens upon the mind, assimilates our thoughts to its suggestions, and is

held more tenaciously in the memory than any other part of our knowledge which is not connected with the mere preservation of life. The pleasure it affords as a luxury of imagination is incalculable, and as a purifying influence upon the heart and life, its moral benefit is beyond estimation. We cannot love things high and holy, and things mean and unworthy, at the same time. Poetry utters the oracles of God-she is the voice of wisdom: let us seek for instruction from her inspiration. She is the handmaid of religion-her flights are upward, and her dwelling place is Heaven--let us follow whither she will lead us, there is the throne of the Almighty and there is the intelligence of angels; there will be the last growth of our minds, and there the highest felicity of our nature.

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

Figures of speech are properly ornaments of written language, embellishments of thought, and illustrations of fact-associated ideas brought before the mind of a writer or speaker, and exhibited to other minds, in order to set off or adorn some primary object of thought: thus, "The rose, with feeble streak

So slightly tinged the maiden's cheek,
That you had said her hue was pale," &c.

Rokeby, Canto iv.

The primary, or first idea in this example, is the délicate glow of Matilda's cheek; the associated idea is the pale red of a faintly coloured rose. The idea of the rose serves to convey to the mind of a reader the idea of the tint of Matilda's cheek, by inducing a comparison between the two objects-that is, by making him think of both at the same time. Figures of speech are very impressive illustrations of ideas, when the figure is suitable to the primary idea. From the print of an elephant, as he may sometimes be seen in books, one who had never seen an elephant, could not form a just notion of his size; but if the figure of a man, in proper proportion,

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